Across an ocean of white sheets
night moves in
with its kitchen of neon
The city settles
with a hum of moth wings
and curtains drawn
against a wind of schedules
a table of unopened letters
Fear is an empty chair
that has lost its voice
Mice hold their breaths and listen
for the wilderness to speak

I study all the exits
within me leaving no memory
but to bare my teeth
Night moves into dawn
from the moans of bedsprings
scattering omens like confetti
from rooftops

until there is nothing visible to see